


Born in July

by Fairy (laterie)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Based on Real Events, First Love, Homophobia, M/M, i'll take you on a 9 years long ride, stress dealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25087939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Love and pain are parts of everyone's life, but sometimes, Mark feels like he shares one soul, one life, and one body with Jackson. Their emotions fit, the rhythm is exactly the same, but the world will never understand.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This should've been very fluffy but you know me better.

**I. Good morning sir**

It was Sunday evening when Mark had decided to get some fresh air since it was finally raining. The weather in South Korea was way too extraordinary for someone who spent his whole life in countries of South America or Los Angeles. It was difficult for him to get used to the humidity. His nose was always full and skin cold. L.A. was windy at least, the air circulated, so when the night hit, it was chilly outside, but here, it was all so weird. 

Mark took his umbrella with him to get a short walk around the JYPe building when he heard someone speaking in English and Chinese – oh wrong, this boy was mixing it as if he was creating a language Koreans could understand. Mark could sense the nervousness for miles. The gift of empathy cursed him. 

"Do you need help?" Mark asked. He heard the company staff asking the boy in English, but there was such nervous radiating from this novice that it made Mark anxious. 

"Oh, good morning, sir, I mean…" 

Mark was left speechless; he almost laughed at the words that left the boy's lift. _Sir,_ that was the first time anyone called him like that. Or, more likely, it was the first time someone showed him respect since he moved to South Korea. 

"I'm trainee here," Mark said, "I can help you." 

_"Oh, you speak English. I'm new here."_ Yeah, Mark has spoken English, but why this boy was talking about it in Chinese? 

To be honest, Mark understood big nada from Korean, but the staff responded to him in English, not much reluctantly, but they were paid for that, so complaining and rolling their eyes, they did what they had to. It was frustrating, and Mark's days have always ended with a headache.

"I'm sorry, I—" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mark thought _'of such a shining smile'_ as he watched the boy explaining why he is here and how nervous he is. Mark nodded at that, said 'it's _alright'_ in Mandarin, and then looked at the woman from the reception. 

"Jinyoung was sent here to wait for the newbie, guess I've been lucky to catch you first," Mark smiled, "I'll take you to the big G."

"I hope I'm not causing trouble...?" the boy asked, a bit confused and scared. 

"My name's Mark Tuan."

"Wang Kayee." 

"Duan Yien."

"Jiaer."

Mark laughed, "just call me Mark, alright?"

"Jackson."

They exchanged smiles. Mark grabbed one of Jackson's bags and pointed his finger at the elevator, "big G is Mr. Gwang. He's the big boss in human resources. He'll tell you where your dorm will be, what room, give you your schedule..." 

" _Oh_."

Mark pressed the elevator button, "I should probably tell Jinyoung that I found you, but since he doesn't understand English, and I don't understand Korean, it's pointless." He laughed. 

"Damn. We have a lot in common." 

_Yeah,_ Mark thought that too.

**II. Turn off the lights or no shampoo**

"This is honestly not funny," Mark said as he stumbled over Jackson's stuff on the floor. "Why are you like this? Why the hell you have to be so messy?!" 

"I'm not messy! Have you seen this tiny room?!"

"No, it's dark," Mark retorted, "since you turned off the light too soon."

"I didn't—" Jackson wanted to stand up, but he forgot that they share the bunk bed and hit his head, "motherf—" 

Mark switched the lights on to see Jackson sprawled on his back, covering his head with his palms. The tank top got rid up a bit, "I swear to god I should've stayed in China." 

_'No way,'_ Mark thought as his eyes mapped the bare skin on Jackson's shoulders and his stomach. Jackson was his first real friend in South Korea. Maybe his fixation was kind of a bit unhealthy, but Jackson was literally everything Mark needed in his life in a foreign country.

When Jackson put his hands back to his body, their eyes have locked for a second. Mark turned on his heel and swallowed. He could live like this forever, with having Jackson only for himself.

"Your tan is so sexy," Jackson blurted out suddenly, "I wish I looked like that with a tan."

"Oh, poor whiny baby," Mark opened the closed, "I'm taking a shower."

"Yeah?" Jackson immediately rose from the ashes. He swiftly stood up, this time not hitting his head, "don't forget to take the shampoo with you. I'm not gonna praise your abs after this! You're ungrateful!"

Mark rolled his eyes, taking a clean towel with himself, "jealous." He spanked Jackson with the cloth and quickly escaped the room.

"And turn off the lights, or I won't bring you the shampoo next time!" 

"No!" Mark yelled from the bathroom. 

**III. How do you do it?**

Jackson was eating yogurt when Yugyeom popped next to him, his eyes curious, "I have a question, hyung."

"Since you asked so nicely," Jackson mixed the fruit filling with yogurt. 

"How do you do it?" 

"What?" he looked at their youngest with concern, "how I'm so flawless?"

"No, how are you always making Mark laugh. How do you do it."

Jackson took a deep breath before putting the cup on the table and turned his full attention to Yugyeom. It was not a question Jackson was ready to answer, but honestly, there was nothing he was hiding, and if it helped Mark open himself more for their boys, Jackson would spill everything for free.

"It's called love," Jackson deadpanned.

 _Oh,_ well, that wasn't what Yugyeom wanted to hear, "you two are so weird." He stood up, shaking his head. 

"What?" was there something wrong about loving his friend? Jackson shrugged and grabbed his yogurt back when Mark appeared in the living room with his phone. He dropped next to Jackson and hummed when he asked what he is doing. 

" _Hmmm_ is not an activity, hyung."

"And ignoring is?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. He sunk deeper between the cushions on the couch and decided to sulk for the rest of the evening before Mark would take a shower and ask for his body wash. Not today, _sir._

"If you wanted to be alone, then you should go to your room." Jackson licked the spoon clean.

"I don't want to be alone, just silent," he explained as he typed into his phone, "I like sitting with you." 

It was then that Jackson caught himself staring at Mark's face without a single word. Just silently admiring his sharp jaw and smooth skin. 

"That's good," he smiled, turning his head back, "I can be very silent."

**IV. Even if you fell I'll be there**

Jackson saw Mark fall often, but not like _this,_ not in front of the cameras while trying to mask the hurt by silly laughing. Nobody knew better how it is to fall from that height. Jaebeom luckily was standing behind, or he would kick everyone in his way to get there and help Mark. The music was no more on, but Jackson was still gasping, not able to move. 

"Are you alright?" Jaebeom asked, concerned, "how many fingers do you see?"

"I didn't hit my head; I just fell on my ass." 

"HOW MANY FINGERS DO YOU SEE?!" the younger forced his whole palm in front of Mark's face. 

"Hyung, let me—" Jackson was between them faster than one could snap their fingers, "does it hurt anywhere?" 

"My ass hurt," Mark said, "do you want to take care of my ass?"

_Silence._

Jackson blinked, his doe eyes burning Mark's whole into ashes while Jaebeom had to witness once again the purest gay panic that overwhelmed Mark. There was no way that this guy wasn't in love with Jackson. Not like he made a bet with Jinyoung who would confess first, but— 

"The cameras are still rolling," Jaebeom pinched Jackson's shoulder, "you can take care of his ass home."

And this snap of fingers worked merely fine. Jackson looked after Jaebeom, "I didn't say I want to!"

"Coward," Mark left him, pouting and limping on his left leg. 

"Oh my god, Mark, you're limping!" He yelled after his friend, "I'm carrying you home in my arms!"

Mark narrowed his eyes at him, "is that a promise?" 

**V. Don't fight me**

It was already night when Mark has returned home to the waiting Jackson, and the light still on. Yes, Mark was old enough to get drunk, have friends, or simply ask Jae to accompany him. Mark was tipsy; his tongue was tired from spending the whole night blabbering about how stupid the company was, which Jae only agreed. It was odd to see Mark talking so much. ' _You usually don't talk this much. Not even with Jackson.'_

"Why are you still up?" Mark asked as he pulled down the hood and ruffled his red hair.

"Waiting for you." 

Mark didn't respond and started to undress. He probably should've wrapped it up in the living room because climbing up on the bed was simply too much in this state. Mark shot a glance at the younger man lying on his mattress; Mark's red blanket kicked to the foot of the bed. 

It was almost inviting to see Jackson sprawled there, wearing only his black tank top and basketball shorts. He took part in Mark's bed with himself, so there was no reason why Mark couldn't simply lay down next to Jackson.

"Where were you?" Jackson asked, his voice low, and Mark swore he could hear a hit of anger in his words. 

"Out with Jae and Hyun—"

"I asked _where_." 

Mark looked at him, surprised by the cold tone. "in WooBar."

 _Oh,_ look at that sulking boy. Jackson's blond hair was in contrast with the black sheets. He looked like a star on the night sky, like a golden emblem on a Versace bag. So beautiful, even though he was frowning. Mark smiled for himself and undressed his tight black jeans. He threw them over the chair and put on his cotton black pajama pants. 

"Why are you smiling?" Jackson asked, eyes getting colder. 

"How cute you are," Mark changed from his Adidas hoodie into Jackson's old black, unbranded, ordinary hoodie with one small hole on the sleeve. 

"What are you—" 

Mark didn't let Jackson finish as he intruded into Jackson's bed, facing him, "I'm too exhausted to fight you, Gaga." He closed his eyes and balled his hands into the sleeves. When Jackson was unresponsive, Mark snuggled to him on his own, wrapping his arm over his waist. 

"Dumbass." It was funny how fast Jackson could change his demeanor. Mark smiled at the cute pout playing on Jackson's face and nudged his nose into Jackson's neck. The younger smelled like fresh oranges. 

**VI. Roses are red, but this bracelet is gold, will you be my best friend?**

Mark didn't understand, and after gasping for fifteen minutes, he already gave up comprehending what was happening between him and Jackson. No explanation was coming around. He felt like a big question mark that was waiting to be turned out. Jackson looked like a fluffy cloud because he just returned from the shower with blow-dried hair. Mark had a thing for that hair. 

"Best friend," Jackson fastened the bracelet on Mark's right wrist with a smile and a slight frown between his eyebrows as he was concentrating on his work. 

"I can't believe…" the gold was nicely warm against his skin, and it wasn't even heavy though the chain looked robust. 

"What?" the word slipped from between Jackson's lips so delicately, almost as if he were scared that Mark would reject him. 

How could he? Mark's heart has turned into a wool ball of endearing. He had so much love for Jackson that he was overflowing with emotions. His face looked blank, almost empty, but only because he didn't know what to feel first; all the feelings were pushing through him at the same time, like a giant yarn ball being pushed through a small door. 

Mark bit his bottom lip, trying not to attack Jackson with his kisses, "thank you." He said, grinning like a complete lovefool. 

"I'm glad you like it," the younger returned the smile, gently massaging Mark's nape, which turned Mark into a pouring kitten. 

Jackson laughed, "you're incredible." 

**VII. Don't hold back**

Sometimes Jackson envied Mark's ability to stay put in the most stressful situations. The older could break easily when his emotions overtook him, but Mark looked like someone who should be treated as art even when Mark was crying. Jackson envied that no matter what Mark did, he always knew _how to_ present himself. He was a professional, always knew what to say though it took him a while. Mark called it _overthinking_ and actually hated this trait.

When Jackson cried, he felt ugly. Not like Mark, whose tears always struck everyone like a lightning bolt and made them cry or stare in awe.

Tonight, Jackson was sitting in the closet between the hangers with their clothes. He was hugging his knees and silently whimpering. Maybe he was homesick and confused. When he confessed to his mother, she carefully pointed at something that Jackson thought about a lot. 

It was about Mark. 

He was everywhere and not only because they were roommates – Mark was under Jackson's skin, in Jackson's thoughts, in his blood and heart. Even now, Jackson could feel the scent of his clothes. The fact that he was probably falling in love with a man was freaking Jackson out.

The wooden floor scrooped. Jackson jerked himself and frantically started to wipe off his tears when a gentle _mew_ came out of the room, and Nora appeared in front of him. 

"Oh, it's you." Jackson lifted the soft kitten into his arms and cuddled her, "I wish I could turn into a cat. He would hold me like this and pet me." 

That sounded… _stupid._

"You scared him the last time you jumped on his chest," Jackson scratched behind her ear. 

"Gaga?" 

_Oh no._ Jackson pressed himself against the wall, trying to hide behind the clothes, but Nora gave him away by a low mewling sound. 

"Nora, are you in the closet?" Mark turned on the lights. 

_Oh shit._

"Come here, kitty, come—" Mark crouched to find not only Nora but also Jackson, who was holding onto the cat for the dear of his life. 

Jackson didn't dare to speak a word as Mark slipped next to him into the closet. Their shoulders and legs were touching. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jackson nosed Nora's soft fur before he shook his head. 

_I think I like you._

**VIII. Bottle of tequila**

Joey had the guts to laugh at Mark's incompetence. So, what, that he was wet from head to toe, and his shirt was translucent and plastered to his body? What that he lost the game, and so what did his brother act like a dumbass and threw him into the water? 

Well, Jackson was staring at him from the rocks on the beach as if Mark kicked a puppy. His look was almost angry. Later, Mark had to take off his shirt and let it dry on the sun, which only leveled the strange madness in Jackson's eyes. 

"Are you alright, Gaga?" 

"I want to get drunk tonight," Jackson announced, "with you only." 

" _Wow,_ that sounds like a date," he giggled, poking Jackson's side, "how do you do it? your abs are so hard."

Jackson took a deep breath, grabbed Mark by his wrist, and pulled his closer, "only the two of us." 

That night Mark got drunk pretty fast. The unknown around Jackson made him nervous, so he decided to drown his anxiety in the tequila bottle. Jackson was laughing, talking, and telling stories while Mark was pointing at interesting details. Although Mark was drunk as hell, and the dark skies didn't help him focus on Jackson, he swore to all Nordic gods that Jackson is the most beautiful man on the Earth. 

"You said that aloud," Jackson giggled happily, "you're so cute when you're drunk."

"I'm always cute," the older pouted, "it's that only you don't see me cute." 

"Now, that's not true."

Mark shrugged, "then, if you think I'm cute when I'm sober, why won't you tell me?"

"I tell you all the time," he poured them two last glasses, "you're cute, but when you're drunk, you're extra cute. Like you don't even have to try."

"I hate being cute," Mark confessed, "I want to be a manly man with abs everywhere. Even on my eyes." 

Jackson laughed at that, "no, please don't."

"Isn't it funny? Your eyelids work, but they never pull a muscle." 

"Stop," Jackson slapped his shoulder, laughing, "I'm stupid when I'm drunk." 

That sounded familiar to Mark. The tone, the voice, Jackson laughing, his beautiful smile and the, by wind-ruffled hair… _it_ looked similar to what Mark imagined under the word _home._

My home. 

"I want to kiss you," Mark blurted out, "so much." 

Jackson's laugh died on his lips. 

_Fuck,_ Mark thought as he bottomed his glass. He fucked up. 

**IX. I have never told you**

Back from the worst trip Mark ever had, he found their room being invaded by bugs. Jackson cried in desperation and went to Jaebeom, urging him to go and fight the enemy. Of course, Jaebeom just slapped his shoulder and told him to quit the madness and reason it. Mark sighed, too scared to go in there because the sight of the creepy spider on the wall next to the window almost gave him a heart attack. 

He forgot close to the window. 

He also forgot to hold his tongue behind his teeth, and now Jackson felt awkward around him.

Mark managed to destroy everything within one month. What a professional, indeed. BamBam would be in his hair the minute if he could hear his thought process. 

"What are we going to do?" Mark asked, standing next to his luggage, "should I move to the living room?" he asked when Jaebeom was inspecting the damage. 

"It's my fault, anyway."

Jaebeom gave him a look, "no, you can room with Youngjae or with me."

"But—" Mark started, but Jackson butted into their conversation, "I'm rooming with Jaebeom." He put down his cap, running his fingers through his sweaty brown hair. 

Mark wanted to suggest that Youngjae could go to Jaebeom since they were very close, so he and Jackson could be rooming together again, but it seemed like Jackson was whole against the idea of them being in the same room after Mark confessed. But was it really a confession? Or just a drunk talk of a lovefool? 

It didn't mean anything at all. 

_Fuck_ meant everything to Mark, but he had this bad habit of bottling up his emotions, so he silently agreed and moved to Youngjae's room. He spent the night crying silently, and if Youngjae heard him, he never let him know. 

**X. Rip it out**

Jackson's chest was heaving. He was lying on the floor of the dance studio and watching his bandaged hand. He could've died, his body could've been in half, and the cops who would've had to drag him out of the car would have another nightmare to remember. 

Freaking stalkers. 

What was even worse was his back. He felt as if someone tried to cut him into two. And despite the pain when he was walking to get help, all he could think of were his parents and Mark. What if he would've lost control and crash into something and got killed? He would never see them again. 

When Jackson was in the hospital, Mark was the first he called after his manager. He was still in shock, trying to find the right rhythm of his breathing. He god painkillers that were easing down his anxiety, but suddenly everything felt like a dream when he dialed Mark's number and heard his sleepy voice. Jackson wanted to be loved and taken care of – all he craved that night in the hospital was Mark wearing his tattered hoodie and hold him tight. 

He couldn't have that. Not when they were idols with public lives. 

"You'll root in there," Jinyoung poked his shoulder with his foot, "stand up, you'll catch a cold." 

"I can't." 

"If your hand is hurting, then we'll wrap it up and go home." 

Jackson shook his head, "no." his eyes got teary as he watched the ceiling without blinking. 

"So, what's the matter then?" the younger sat next to him, "do you feel unwell? You know mental health is as important as the physical." 

"I know," Jackson swallowed the stress collecting in his throat. 

"Have you talked to Mark recently?" 

Jinyoung gave him a suspicious look, "I talk to him all the time. Which leads me to a question—"

"Please don't," Jackson stopped him and carefully hoisted himself into a sitting position, "I won't answer." 

The tension grew between them as Jinyoung was staring through Jackson's skull straight into his brain, and Jackson was sure that he could see his thoughts, the pictures in his head, even the inappropriate dreams he had about Mark. How fucked up everything was? 

"You need to talk, hyung." 

_Yeah,_ but Jackson didn't know if ' _you'_ means only Jackson or Mark and him. 

"I miss him," Jackson stood up, cradling his injured hand close to his chest, and walked out of the room.

 _Ah,_ he shouldn't have moved away.

**XI. We're never beyond repair**

Jackson dropped the plate when he walked into Mark's room, ready to feed him with the chicken salad he made. Why did he lose it? Mark was changing from his hoodie to a long-sleeved shirt, and Jackson saw the ribs and tiny waist almost disappearing from his sight. Mark turned around and pushed the shirt down. 

"You have to be kidding me, Mark." he crossed over the mess he made from the food and immediately grabbed Mark by his hand and yanked it closer. 

"Look at me!" 

Mark gritted his teeth; his jaw was impossibly tight. Jackson's eyes ran down across his face, inspecting the sharp cheekbones. Everything about Mark was calling him back, to enter the space he left with such little response. They should've talked, did more than giving each other assuring looks when they were falling apart in the same direction but still alone. 

"Mark!" Jackson cupped his face, his thumbs caressing the tender skin on his cheeks. 

The silence was filled with a strange warmth coming from Mark's body, and for the first time after months, Jackson could feel the fire from the beach in Los Angeles. Everything could've been different if he wasn't such a coward, sat down with Mark, and ripped the soaked band-ai from his heart. Instead of mending their bond, Jackson stepped away and watched Mark trying to fix his side. There was a wall between them, which made Mark unable to cross it and ask Jackson to repair his part. 

"I missed you," Mark closed his eyes, "can I say that?"

Jackson's heart sunk so low that he could feel the emptiness possessing his chest. No matter how deep his breaths were, there was not enough oxygen to fill all the space. 

"Take care of yourself when I'm gone," Jackson kissed his temple, "I beg you, don't let anyone destroy you. You're so strong, so much stronger than this. I love you." 

When Jackson wrapped his arms around the bony body, Mark gave in though he tried to hug Jackson back, his hands fell back to his sides, and Jackson could feel his soul leaving his body. Their situation wasn't alright at all. 

"Talk to me, Mark." 

Mark buried his face in the crook of Jackson's neck, unable to move anymore, "I love you too." 

There was a difference that Jackson couldn't grasp properly. Holding Mark was like taking care of everything precious to Jackson. He would rather poke his eyes out than watch Mark disappearing in front of him. If the space in his chest would go expanding even more, and Jackson was about to lose his heart forever, then he could at least hide Mark inside his body and protect him. 

What was a heart for when it was broken anyway? 

**XII. Let's make it because I know we can make it.**

Mark sat on the steps by the river shore. He was in the half-way of his daily run when he decided to take a short breather. He pulled out his phone, switched between songs, skipping Jackson's Papillon on purpose, and set some old nineties songs about love. These were brainwashing enough to let his mind slip somewhere in the distance and look at the world from a different perspective. 

The bickering water was sparkling with the streetlights, and Mark was almost _there_ in his comfort zone, far-far away from reality, when his nose started to itch, and he sneezed loudly. The weather was getting colder, and also, he was all sweaty from the long run. Mark was about to stand up when a hand touched his shoulder. He jerked away, scared that it could be a crazy stalker, when his eyes met Jackson's doe eyes. 

"What a coincidence," the younger smiled, "I wouldn't mistake your sneezing with anyone. You sneeze and cough in rhythm. You're like a cat." He laughed. 

"Did you get lost?" Mark asked, "this route is so out of your hand." 

Jackson shrugged, "I was bored, so I took the longer one." 

"It's already so late, you're gonna be home at midnight," Mark warned him, "you should go back to dorms with me. I can give you a ride back to your house." 

"Or—" Jackson leaned closer, "I can spend a night. It's been a while. Or I'm not welcomed anymore?" 

These eyes could save nations from war. Mark was sure that only he thinks that because of the love effect, but anyway, try to look at Jackson and tell him _no._ Mark turned off the music and put his phone together with his headphones into his sweat's pocket. 

"You can do whatever you want." 

"Can we take a walk then?" Jackson asked, "and talk."

"I need to finish my mile, Jackson." 

"Am I not enough for you to make an exception?" 

Mark shrugged and shoved his hands into his pocket. He started to walk, not waiting for Jackson at all. He felt pressured to be with Jackson outside and alone, but he at least didn't have to pretend that everything is alright without the cameras. 

"How are you doing, hyung?"

 _Oh, it's_ hyung for him now. Mark looked at the river, trying to calm down, "it's not that bad."

"I'm glad that you're back on it," Jackson said, "you look good." 

"You too," he answered automatically. 

"Can we hang out tomorrow?" the question was unexpected, and it made Mark look at Jackson. "We haven't been out together for months." 

"No, since you moved out," Mark corrected him. 

"Then, I want to fix it." 

"Why?"

"Because I miss you."

Mark only wished Jackson missed him the same way as Mark loved him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say.

**XIII. Don't surrender**

"What were you thinking about when you wrote _'Face'_?" Jackson asked, holding his microphone tightly, "just tell us."

Mark didn't even look at him as he frowned and tried to come up with the right answer. For some reason, Jackson thought that pushing him in front of their fans was a good idea. Sometimes Mark wanted to punch his dumb face with a plush toy – just throw a teddy bear at Jackson and run away.

"I don't remember," Mark shrugged, “it's been too long." 

"Now, I don't trust you," Jaebeom stood up, "you always remember these things. Your songs are personal to you." 

"Are you trying to embarrass me?" Mark scolded him, avoiding Jackson's look. 

They wrote the song together with Bambam, so why was Jackson asking like a dumbass about what he was thinking about? In no way, he'd tell him. There could be hundreds of ideas and reasons, but Mark was alright with Jackson, not knowing. Why should he anyway? 

But Jackson was a persistent puppy, and every time they performed the song, he was facing Mark as if stressing the line of _missing someone's face._ At first, Mark felt awkward, but when the poignant eyes landed at him when Jackson's face turned into a mess, Mark couldn't stop his heart from picking on the same old tempo every time Jackson looked at him with these doe eyes. 

"We can last forever…" Jackson looked at him, sending signals to Mark, who averted his eyes. It was easier to pretend that he was only happy that Jackson liked the lines he wrote. 

Mark didn't know when he started to surrender or when he let go of Jackson. It was probably too late for Jackson to say 'ain't _nobody gonna stop us,'_ when Mark was already walking away. 

**XIV. Hold on, this is too much for my heart**

It was Jackson's first time in Mark's new house. The walls were light purple, the floor dark, and windows covered. The space was huge, and Mark's glow was filling it as he showed his members the place. Bambam said something about American style, which provoked Mark into poking his side right under his ribs. Jaebeom high-fived Mark while Jackson was trying to see Mark's bedroom. 

"Have you brought anyone here yet?” Jinyoung asked, "I know your ways. As long as it's private, you can do anything."

"No, I didn't, and I don't plan to," Mark answered, annoyed. 

"I want a beer," Jackson turned around, heading to the kitchen, "tell me you have some."

"Of course, I have." 

The first bottle was easy, the second made Jackson questioning his intentions, and the third made him emotional. He was hugging the cushion and carefully listening to his friends talking and laughing. Nobody asked Jackson why he is suddenly so quiet. These manners were beyond them. Except for teasing, they never brought in the _talkative/quiet_ card. It was always about Mark and Jackson anyway. They were so opposite, so different in everyone's eyes, that they kept drawing attention. 

But not in Jackson's eyes. What was happening in his head was different than what he was showing. 

"Mark, show me your bathroom," Jackson looked at him, firmly holding onto the pillow. 

"It's there at the left," he nodded his head, but when Jackson didn't move, Mark stood up with a sight. "are you a baby?"

"Always," Jackson followed him behind the corner. 

When Mark turned on the light in the spacious bathroom, Jackson took advantage of them being alone, which was why he actually asked Mark to show him the bathroom. Jackson grabbed his hand and yanked him inside. 

The expression Mark gave him wasn't a surprising one, but fearful. A liquid fear that turned his eyes so profoundly dark that Jackson's knees were buckling. When had their relationship turned into a freaky show? 

"Mark," Jackson released his hand, "why are we like _this_?" 

"What?" the older was ready to back off any second and run away from Jackson. It hurt to see Mark being alarmed in his presence. 

"What should I do to break the ice between us? It's been a year. A _fucking_ year and I don't know what to do." Jackson's voice dropped. 

"We're just fine, Jackson." 

_Of course,_ Jackson shook his head. He was desperate for a conclusion, but Mark didn't give him any clue, no reason to be there and asking for something else. Maybe it was all in Jackson's head, perhaps the tables have turned, and he was begging for something Mark couldn't give him anymore. 

"Then, what is _this_?" Jackson pointed between them, "what do you call this _thing_ between us? You're miles away from me. The awkwardness is suffocating."

"Jack—"

"It drives me insane!" Jackson almost yelled, his emotions being ripped out of his heart, "this is sick! It hurts me! Stop hurting me!" 

Mark looked like a statue, standing there all pretty, not knowing what to say. But Jackson knew better than that; he knew there's a whole galaxy living inside of Mark's head, but he had no idea how to enter it.

"I'm sorry…" Mark lowered his gaze and took a step back, "I've never meant to hurt you." 

"You're distancing yourself from me. That hurts."

Mark shook his head, "no, I don't." 

"You do."

"You did it first. You're watching me while you're walking away. I'm still here." 

**XV. Dear God, make it stop hurting**

Jackson was a social butterfly, the person you always wanted to hang out with because he would never leave you behind. He was funny, talkative, and always knew when he should wrap it up. But not today, and no matter how many times Jae was trying to drag Jackson home, the younger just pushed back and said that he's going home when Mark is going. The truth was that Mark had less alcohol in his veins, and his level of resistance was also higher than Jackson's. 

"You're acting like a brat," Mark frowned, "just go home both of you."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"Am I alone, though?" Mark leaned against the plush sofa he was sitting on. There were at least five other people with them, and all of them were their friends. 

"You should go home with me!" Jackson insisted. 

"Why?"

The focus in Jackson's eyes was decreasing as his head was lulling down, "because we're bandmates, best-friends, and buddies. You and me. It's weird to go home without you."

"We don't even live together," Mark snorted, "don't be melodramatic, please."

Jackson suddenly stood up, almost knocking his half-empty glass on the table, "do you want to fight?" 

"What?" the whole table turned at Jackson. 

"This is unfair, Mark!" 

"What is unfair? That I'm not wrapped around your finger? That I'm not hanging on each of your words anymore? Grow up, Jackson."

The last words made Jackson so furious that he knocked the table with his knee, sending half of the glass down. The spilled alcohol drowned the table and also Mark's smartphone. Jackson freed his arm from Jae's hold and swore in Chinese, which only Mark could understand. 

"Go home, Jackson!" Mark stood up, wiping his phone into a paper tissue that Hyolin gave him. The girl's hand brushed against Mark's, and only this little fueled Jackson into another riot. 

He grabbed his Fendi jacked and stepped away from the table, swaying in the process, "you know goddamn well…" he started in Cantonese, "how much, how much you mean to me. How much I want you beside me. You are meant to be with me now. To go home with me and let me take care of you."

Mark had problems understanding the words, so in conclusion, the situation looked just like the scene when they met for the first time. But this time, it wasn't the staff being clueless but their friends and Mark. To not create even more chaos, Mark surrendered to Jackson's teary eyes and grabbed his things, excusing himself from his friends. 

"Come home with me," Jackson whispered in English when Mark was standing in front of him, "please."

"I have to pay first." 

"Then you'll go home with me," the red-rimmed eyes could melt anyone. Mark almost felt sorry for Jackson and his intolerance to strong alcohol. It was almost as if Jackson was made of soft fabric and silver lining like stuffed with the fluffiest feathers and sprinkled with stardust. 

"I'll go home with you." Mark agreed as he pulled out his wallet. 

"You'll let me kiss you…" Jackson whispered, his eyes tracing Mark's full lips. 

"What?!" 

"Let me kiss you." 

**XVI. Look at you**

Jackson's breakdown on the stage left a significant mark on everyone, but nobody knew how deep the claws dug into Mark's heart. He felt insulted for Jackson and was ready to fight the whole world. It made him so angry that he dragged Jackson into an empty locker room and turned off the lights so nobody would come to inspect. 

The second Jackson dropped on the bench, he started to cry so hard and so loud that Mark has to come to him and rub his back in soothing circles. Hate could end not even one's dreams but also life. Mark was on high alert since the hatred was multiplying with each day, and Jackson couldn't do anything about it but endure. After Jackson had announced his plans with Team Wang, many fans have turned their backs on him. No matter how hard he tried, it was still the same old song.

“I need someone who’s here for _me—a_ person who would hold me no matter how hard everything is. I feel so lonely…” Jackson laced his fingers and pressed them together.

Mark was silent, watching his friend pouring out his heart between the small walls. Nobody knew Jackson this way, how fragile and sentimental he could go. The tears looked like pearls, and all Mark wanted to do was kiss them away and shush Jackson. He would hold him the whole night while whispering sweet nonsense.

Mark was always here for him and was more than capable of doing all of these.

But Jackson had let him know that he’s looking for someone else than Mark.

"Everything will be alright again," Mark pushed Jackson's hair back, wiping his tears off with his thumbs, "I promise." 

He didn't try to stop the tears, not even for a second, because he knew how much it helps to vent off and let the tears take all the dirt and splash it away, just like rivers do after heavy rain. There was something magical about Jackson's being this vulnerable in front of Mark because he always tried to check his emotions and don't show his hurt much. However, the sunshine and lollipop attitude was so unhealthy that Mark counted seconds until Jackson's breakdown. 

"Look at you," Mark cupped his face, "you're more than they deserve. Don't ever let anyone destroy you like this. They don't deserve your tears." 

Jackson sniffled, nodding lightly. But not even five seconds later, he gave up and buried his face into Mark's stomach, inhaling the sweaty and flowery scent. Maybe it was the chaos in Jackson's head, or maybe that his nose was full, and he couldn't feel properly, but Mark smelled like honey. It calmed him down - the warmth and scent felt like home. 

"I'm here," Mark ran his fingers through Jackson's locks. 

"Behereforever, please." 

**XVII. Best friend, best friend, please**

Mark was sitting on his bed, staring at the jewelry box placed on the table. He was tempted to put on the chrome hearts bracelet again, or the rose gold necklace from Jackson. The evolution of their relationship was making him anxious. He couldn't even remember when he put all the gifts aside and locked them into a box. Mark knew that only one touch could trigger many memories, and he wasn't ready for that. 

"What is even going on?" Mark kicked away the blanket and stood up so he could hide the box when Milo came barking into his room, and not a second later, the doorbell announced a guest. 

Before Mark decided that he would definitely not open the door for strangers, his phone buzzed between his bedsheets. Jackson texted him that Mark should open the door soon, or his ass will freeze off. 

Everything was different. 

How fast their bond has evolved into something so elastic and fasten, Mark didn't know, but now, even though they looked like they ate each other's dessert, they were still connected by the unbreakable and flexible thread of fate. Mark tried to break it, but every time he pulled, it only stretched even more. He was sure that even if he'd escape into a different galaxy, the red thread wouldn't give in. 

Soulmates. 

Mark opened the door for Jackson, who ran straight into Mark's arms, crying about how fucking cold everything and everyone today is. Mark made him a black tea and gave him a blanket. He didn't ask why Jackson wore a sweater only and why he left his winter jacket in the car. He let it go because Jackson looked stressed and triggered enough, even without his nagging. 

"I wanna cuddle," Jackson looked at Mark, who was sitting at the opposite side of the couch, trying not to stare at Jackson's incredibly kissable lips. 

"Male best friends cuddling, what a curiosity," Mark chuckled, "don't you have anything to tell me?" 

The silence was pin drop. Jackson put the cup on the table and throw the blanket away from his body. Milo jumped on the couch between them out of curiosity, but Jackson had none of that and grabbed the dog, minding on its fragile build. He put the puppy on the floor and scratched behind his ear before he turned his attention back to Mark. 

"We used to cuddle all the time," Jackson crawled on the top of Mark. 

"That was when we were younger, vulnerable, and lived together packed in a room of my closet's size." That was true, and Mark wanted to be clear about everything. No more secrets. 

"I'm still vulnerable," Jackson lowered himself between Mark's opened legs, "I feel like my heart is swelling, and growing, and eating my whole body away every time I look at you. You're turning me into a living heartbeat." 

Mark gulped silently, staring into Jackson's deep brown eyes. The world has suddenly shrunk into the extent of Mark's living room. Their position was beyond explaining. Even best friends knew their boundaries, and Jackson was never like this when the cameras were off. 

"Is that why you can't even look at me when we're in public?" Mark asked, not letting his emotions take over his brain this time. 

"Do you want people to see how I'm looking at you? Do you want them to see me like this?" 

"Yes, I want." 

Jackson inhaled deeply, which was the stupidest he could do because now he had his lungs full of Mark. No matter what aftershave or cologne Mark used, combined with Mark's natural scent, it always reminded Jackson of home. 

The equation wasn't hard, but Jackson still held the paper upside down out of fear. 

"Just tell me what you want. I gave you years to figure it out…" Mark still didn't dare to look at him.

"Are you saying that as your best friend, I can't cuddle you?" 

Mark shrugged, "it makes me nervous." 

"How nervous?" Jackson asked curiously. His body heat was making miracles on Mark. The temperature around them was quickly rising. There was nothing friendly about the position they were in, nothing pointed at them as about _BFF_ hanging out and being too touchy. Jackson's hips were an inch away from Mark's groin, and besides that, if anyone could hear their heartbeats… 

"It took me years to heal," Mark confessed, "if you want to break me again out of your selfishness, then please leave. Don't make me feel special and then set the line between us. I built walls, Jackson. I built them high and robust for you all. I don't want to get hurt again." 

Jackson went silent. 

Maybe it was time for Mark to find a way to stretch that bond so much that it would finally snap. No matter how intense the aftershock would be, at least Mark would be free. 

"I'm scared," Jackson whispered, "so scared of everyone." 

"I understand," he said, "and I will never force you into anything. But be mindful of my feelings. If you don't want them, then don't touch them." 

**XVIII. Yours is mine and mine is yours**

Packing his bags and leave was never Mark’s style. _Giving up_ wasn’t included in his dictionary, but if you asked if he ever thought about going because loving Jackson hurt, he would consider it. But then, who would sit with him in the living room when Mark’s life was falling apart? Who would hold his hand behind their backs when the cameras were rolling? Who would sneak with him and hug him for minutes until the emotional stress would deflate? Who would show the world that Mark is still relevant and loved by GOT7 when the rumors started?

It was Jackson.

Mark never doubted that the younger loves him.

It hurt to watch Jackson forcing himself into the twilight zone. It was a deal with the devil – _just sign it on the dotted line and never ask again if you can be freely loved._ That was the life of an idol.

“This is for you,” Jackson handed him a cup of tea, but Mark put it on the nightstand and curled into himself. His appetite was a long time gone. If Jackson wasn’t prepared to give him at least a bottle of vodka, then Mark was ready to sulk till _forever._

It was Jackson. It was haters, rumors, and the incompetent company behind his ass.

“Look, Mark,” he said gently, “I know it hurts, I know it feels like the whole world had betrayed you, but we’re still here. GOT7 got your back. We always have.”

 _“You have to be honest with me! Do you know anyone who would like to hurt you, or are you a friend with anyone from that chat?_ ” Mark recited Jaebeom’s words, “ring a bell?”

“ _Hey,_ ” Jackson climbed on the bed and made himself comfortable beside Mark. He wrapped his arm around Mark’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest, “Jaebeom’s trying to protect you. He cares deeply about us. You know him, _EnEn…_ ”

Mark snorted at that nickname, “are you trying to play favorites?”

“Trust me a bit,” Jackson kissed the crown of Mark’s head, “I’m not leaving your side ever. Your worries are mine; your pain is mine to deal with too. We share.”

It was easy to believe words like these when Jackson had him in his arms and promised him a bright future. Mark could get lost in the world of feathers and sweets and forget that sour lemon exist. But there was something about the awful taste on his tongue. There was something about the behavior Jackson pulled at him, hot & cold, sweet & sour. Jackson was like a rainbow, mesmerizing but unable to catch.

“Fuck,” Mark buried his face into Jackson’s chest, “I hate you for making me feel things…”

“Good.”

**XIX. Call my name again, and I'll punch you**

Jackson's scalp was itchy from all the hair spray the stylist used. He was tempted to go and scratch the shit out of his skin, but Jaebeom slapped his hand away every time. It was unbearable, especially when they were heading for a photoshoot. Mark looked like a sculpture, sitting in the front seat, but what was new? This loop strand of his hair looked inviting, and Jackson could swear that he would die happily being strangled with that. 

"You're so incredible," Jinyoung sighed, "stop ogling him for Christ's sake! I have enough of you tiptoeing around him as if he was a personalized god." 

"He is!" Jackson gave him his most intense puppy eyes. 

"Shut up!" 

"What did you tell me, dongsaeng?" 

"He said, _shut up._ " Jaebeom slapped his hand away, "stop grabbing your hair."

"I have to! It itches so badly! What if I have an allergic reaction?!"

"I'll tell the staff to look at it when we're on the spot, alright? Our makeup is still not done yet, so hold on there." 

"I refuse!" Jackson whined, pulling at the hem of his shirt, "what if my hair fell off until then?"

"Mark-hyung!" Jinyoung called his name, "can I switch seats with you?"

"No!" 

The ride was noisy, and not even Jaebeom, who was threatening Jackson with cutting his hair when he will be sleeping, could help to mute the younger. The second the car has been parked, the members jumped out as if the interior were toxic. Mark joined Yugyeom, and together they walked into the building. The staff surrounded them immediately, separating Jackson from Mark the second he stepped closer to the older. 

"Mark!" he called his name as one of the stylists was looking into his hair for any skin irritation. "Good luck!" 

It happened five more times, Jackson was calling Mark's name for odd reasons. First the hair, then he asked if he likes the coffee he bought. Then Jackson wanted to show Mark his outfit and how the brown undershirt suits him. He flexed in front of everyone but flirted openly with Mark, whose frown was growing deeper between his eyebrow with each echo of his name. The last drop was when Mark gave the camera interview, and Jackson called his name to show him his washed fluffy hair. Mark didn't know how they managed to wash his hair, but he had no space to investigate. He commented on it with a smile. 

"Jackson is laughing in the back…" his eyes gave in the emotion, and then the camera was off. 

Back in the van, Mark slipped next to Jackson and punched his shoulder so hard that Jackson squealed at the pain and looked at him with hurt in his eyes, "why?"

"Call my name like that again, and I'll punch you." 

"Why?" Jackson rubbed his _owie,_ withdrawing from Mark. 

Mark sighed at that. How could he even for a second think about punching Jackson, friends, or not? The wordplay was dangerous and always caused them to erect the walls. Mark had enough of this attitude. Jackson wanted a friend because he was scared of giving more but also scared of losing Mark. It should've been the golden mean, but Mark didn't feel it.

"I'm sorry," he let his body freely sunk against Jackson's abused shoulder and rubbed his nose against the fabric of his shirt. 

"Mark…" it was different from all the times Jackson called his name. This time it sounded gentle, mindful, almost loving. 

" _Oh, when you call my name…_ "

**XX. Between two rocks**

Mark's favorite song from Jackson was clearly Oxygen, but he would rather eat earthworm than admit it. The song felt intimate, personal, and left a funny feeling in Mark's stomach. 

_All is fair in love and war, and imagination knows no bounds._

Jackson was busy with GOT7's comeback, but Mark knew that Jackson wished he could talk about his solo more deep down inside. What kind of a best friend Mark would be if he didn't break the laws for Jackson? 

The worst, of course. 

So, it was a tongue slip, he said when he promoted Dway! It was only a wordplay in the cafeteria when he mentioned Bullet to the heart during the live streaming. Yugyeom laughed like a schoolboy at that, Jinyoung grabbed Mark's hands and was trying to occupy Mark's troubled mind because Jackson was giving him the softest looks. It made Mark nervous. 

"You wanna hang out today?" Jackson asked as he was changing his shoes, "I won't drink too much, I promise." 

"I don't feel like drinking at all." Mark rejected the idea, "we can hang out at my place." 

Jackson watched him, he could feel the worried look at his back, "what is it?"

"You're like this since… _that happened._ Mark, I thought we talked about this. We promised each other that we wouldn't let anyone destroy us." 

Mark sighed at that, "I'm sorry, but you weren't falsely accused of spreading someone's sex tape." 

The words might sound harsh, but Mark also grew sturdier and colder to his surroundings. He wasn't that open and smiley boy anymore. He was more talkative, yes, but he watched his back and never let anyone get closer to him than at arm-length. People would stab him no matter what their intentions were. Call him paranoid, but he knew better about the xenophobic country he lived in. 

When Jackson moved, he dropped everything and crossed all the boundaries Mark set for the rest of the world, "I know, and I'm sorry if I sounded insensitive." 

"You did," Mark nodded, "but _you_ are you, and I know you only meant the best." 

"I did."

They were alone in the dressing room, only air conditioner and humming from behind the closed door were interrupting their low voices. Though Mark decided to reject the whole world, he would never draw a line for Jackson. It was the opposite; actually, Jackson outlined the limit for Mark. It was so _stupid_ to think about it because there was no one Mark needed as much as he needed Jackson, but the other man simply _couldn't,_ and though Mark knew fear very-well, he couldn't stop wishing for Jackson to snap out of his shell. 

Love never asked for entrance and never gave anyone the sovereignty of deciding. Friendships were more natural, one could simply turn their back on anyone and pretend that the bond went cold, but love, in love case, _everything_ felt surreal, and every lonely night felt like a whole eternity. 

"Fuck," Mark closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against Jackson's shoulder. 

"What is it?" 

No, Jackson shouldn't have put his hands on Mark's waist and hold him like he cared much more than he showed. It meant nothing but also everything to Mark. He was probably getting delusional. In his most vulnerable moments, Mark could only think about Jackson's warm and safe embrace. However, It didn't work anymore since Jackson held back a lot. It hurt how much Mark simply wanted to be held by him but couldn't change Jackson's mind. 

"What scares you more," Mark asked, "people hating you or losing me?" 

Someone laughed loudly behind the door. Jackson's phone buzzed, announcing a new message, and Mark let himself lose it a bit, let himself think about Jackson as about a man and not his best friend. His palms slid under Jackson's shirt. He felt the shiver as Jackson's body reacted at the tenderness of his hands. 

"Sometimes I feel like quitting because of you. It honestly scares me how much I still love you after all the years." 

The _love_ word was finally out. All the fear of speaking aloud was absurd in a situation like this when Mark felt like fainting and giving everything just to be in Jackson's arms again. He wanted to feel their body pressed, Jackson's muscles tightening on how strongly he would hold Mark, scared of letting him go. Mark wished to be desired and loved by Jackson more than anything else in the world. 

"You can't ask me for kisses, you can't play with my feelings and force me to stay because you're constantly scared of everything." Mark wrapped his arms around Jackson's middle and pressed his cheek against his shoulder. 

"I deserve more than being the source of your fear." 

Seconds were turning into minutes of silence, and tough Jackson brought himself to hold Mark back, it didn't feel real at all. After all, Jackson knew that Mark would never leave, that he would never turn his back on him. Being taken for granted by the love of his life hurt more than being accused by some crazy hater. 

"I'm so sorry," Jackson's body shivered as he let his tears roll down his cheeks, "I want to give you all the love you deserve, but I _can't…_ " 

And then, just like in Mark's wildest dreams, Jackson pressed him against his body and held him for the dear of his life, forcing the air out of Mark's lungs. His hand went to Mark's hair to keep his head on his shoulder. 

"I don't want anyone to hurt you," Jackson whispered through his tears into Mark's hair, "I would never forgive myself." 

Mark shut his eyes, letting his tears drop and soak into Jackson's shirt. So, this was the end of _everything,_ of markson, of Mark's hope and devotion. It almost felt real at some point, as if he could touch Jackson and promise him the world. Each kiss they shared was blooming in Mark's heart that now looked like a winter garden. It was quiet, cold, and dark. 

"I love you," Jackson's lips brushed against Mark's head, but Mark didn't reply. Whatever these three words mean, they weren't mean to be his. 

**XXI. Ring a bell**

It was like watching his life in rewind. Jackson watched as Mark was changing into the designer clothes for their Not By The Moon photoshoot. Mark's ribs were poking and saying hi to Jackson. Though the younger knew about Mark's bothersome digestive system and the impact stress had on his body, he couldn't help but sigh in concern. 

What was happening? Why his whole world was disappearing in front of his eyes all over again? 

Jackson locked himself in the toilet stall and silently wept for himself. Nothing made sense anymore. He was imprisoned between Mark and everyone else. Can he be brave enough and give up everything to be with Mark? Was that a real question? What would he feel if Mark would've decided to pack his bags and leave back into Los Angeles as he said? It triggered Jackson. 

It was easier for him to soak himself into the blood and tears of his work and turn into a workaholic instead of watching Mark falling apart because of him. Jackson didn't feel like he belonged to Mark's life, not after he rejected him twice. Best friend? _What a joke._ Jinyoung would come around, take Mark into his arms and hold him until Mark would start smiling again. He possessed such power.

The jealously was tearing his lungs apart. Why couldn't he openly love someone pure as a diamond? Jackson buried his face into his palms, sobbing uncontrollably. He felt like kicking and punching things, maybe even destroying the bathroom. 

Even fans were suspicious that he's avoiding Mark for some reason. Everyone by now knew that one of them fucked up. There were so many ways how he wanted to show his love for Mark. His fingers were itching, his lips ready to kiss the hell out of Mark, but nothing _was real_ enough to compare it with the world outside. The fairytale Mark has built-in his head was nothing but a foolish dream, but Jackson would _love_ to live it with him. Though one day, the bubble would probably burst and make them choke on the toxic reality. 

But not today or tomorrow. 

**XXII. They can't hurt what I don't have**

Mark was curled on his couch, watching Jinyoung's drama, but his mind was too absent from concentrating on the story. His phone buzzed with a new message from Jackson. That idiot was in front of his house again. What to do with a man so foolish that he was coming back for more pain? Mark ignored the messages popping up. When his phone started to ring, Mark sighed. He stared at the screen for some time, sucking on the sour lemon lollipop he unwrapped. 

"Hmmm," He touched the receiving button and put the call on speaker, "hello?"

_"Mark, I'm outside your house, I know you're here. Your residence security told me that you're home. If you don't want me to come back, you should've removed my name from the list."_

Mark rolled his eyes, "I don't feel like moving. I found a nice spot on the couch, and I'm watching Jinyoung's drama." 

_"Then let me watch it with you. He's on my back for not seeing more than two minutes… I've been busy. How can he blame me for not having time when he knows how hectic my schedule is?"_

"Yeah, then," Mark felt angry suddenly, "when you're so busy, what are you doing here?" 

_"I'm not_ that _busy to not make time for my best friend."_

Incredible. How far and how long was Jackson taking the impossible stretch between them? Mark tapped the red button on the screen. He stood up, and knowing that he's making a mistake, he went for the door where Milo was waiting. Mark lifted him into his hand and unlocked Jackson's door, who was furiously typing into his phone. 

"Are you sending me threatening messages?" Mark asked, amused. 

"You opened!" the younger's whole face brightened, "Markie!" 

Of course, he was _Markie when_ Jackson needed something. Mark dropped his dog into Jackson's arms and locked the door behind him. Milo was licking his whole face while Jackson was complaining about makeup and how terrible it must taste. 

"Why do you wear makeup for?" Mark asked as he sat down on his previous spot on the couch. 

"To look pretty for you."

Mark snorted at that, sucking at his lollipop.

"What?" Jackson put Milo down on the floor, "what's that long face for hm?"

"Don't try so hard," Mark gave him a side-look, "it doesn't work."

"Are you accusing me of pretending?" Jackson joined him on the couch, "I came here because I missed you."

Mark tried so hard not to think about the last time Jackson came to him with these words on his impossibly alluring lips. The closeness between them was all Mark could remember – the inches his brain recreated – but not the feeling, the sensation, _that_ was distanced, and Mark was glad that he was able to push it back for the sake of his sanity. How many times has he tried to forget about Jackson's fondness? It was a vicious circle of Jackson coming back for more and Mark allowing him despite the pain it was causing them. 

"I also came to tell you that I'm leaving for China until August." 

That was more than two months. 

Mark snapped his head at Jackson, "are you actually planning to leave me alone finally? To stop playing with me and instead of that, find a woman and settle down?"

The outburst left Jackson speechless. Mark snapped, and it felt horrible, like being punched into his lugs. Mark was quickly on his feet, heading to his bedroom. 

Mark's world spun. He felt dizzy and ready to vomit his lunch. His eyes were target locked on the jewelry box. The content would be equal to a brand new luxury car by now. Jackson was pushing, pulling, and showing his love in the shape of gifts until he stopped and left Mark with nothing but kisses. Mark would exchange _everything_ for these kisses. 

"What made you so angry?" Jackson entered his bedroom, "you're creating scenarios in your head." 

"Leave me alone, Jackson." Mark was facing the heavy black curtains that were covering his windows. 

"Why are you turning this against me? I thought we're clear."

Mark turned around, "I can't do this!" he shouted, "don't tell me anything."

"Mark, for god's sake!" 

"I can't!" He yelled, "I fucking hate it!" 

Jackson felt small and ready to flee the scene at any moment, "I just said that I'm leaving for China because of my schedule. How's that so triggering to you? There's no one waiting for me there, Mark. I have nobody but you."

 _Oh, he didn't_ say that _._ Mark grabbed the jewelry box and threw it against the wall next to him. The gold chains, bracelets, rings, earrings, everything clanged against the wooden floor and the table. Jackson could see years of their relationship being scattered on the floor. He remembered each of the pieces he gave to Mark. 

"You're leaving me," Mark said with tears in his eyes, "I know you don't want me, but please don't tell me you're leaving me."

Jackson gasped, too shocked at what happened, "I'm not leaving you." 

"I know you do. You will marry one day and settle down in China. It will be the end of _us._ " 

Mark couldn't do it, couldn't grasp it, or imagine the day when Jackson would finally snap the thread between them. It was closer than Mark had thought. He should be the first to do it, not Jackson, because the pain it would cause would surely kill Mark. Nothing would hurt more than watching the love of his life turning his back on him.

"I'm so in love with you…" Mark dropped on the bed, "but nothing's working. Absolutely nothing." 

Jackson's head was spinning. How could Mark hurt his heart like this when it's been years since he gave it away? How could he still feel it? The only person he trusted so much not to hurt him was now squeezing his heart so tightly that it broke Jackson into pieces. 

"I'll be gone for two months," Jackson said calmly, "so let's try to figure it out. For our and the sake of GOT7." 

"I'm leaving for California," Mark wiped his tears into the sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I'm going home."

"That's… _that's good,_ " Jackson nodded. 

"And now," Mark cleared his throat as he sniffed, "get out!" 

"Mark…" Jackson's voice broke in the middle of his name, "Mark…"

"Just go!" 

Jackson looked at the mess on the floor, and when his eyes shot up at Mark, he could see _why_ Mark was so mad at him. It's been years of pushing and pulling. Was he abusive? Playing hard to get but coming back to tease Mark? How could love made them crazy like this? They both felt the same, but while Mark was ready to give in, Jackson, being the rational one who could see the danger of their forbidden love, had restrained himself.

 _Fuck it._ Mark was still the person he loved. 

He dropped on his knees in front of Mark and cupped his face wordlessly before he kissed him. He was pushing again, _yes,_ ripping open their old wounds, probably hurting Mark beyond anything, but still, _they_ transformed their need into oxygen. 

"I love you," Jackson whispered into his lips, "and I always will. You're my true first love. Nothing else matters." 

Mark wanted to give in and let himself drown in the water, but somehow, he learned how to breathe underwater and survive even the most absurd situation, just like this right now. He should've let himself died in the cruelty of Jackson's confession, but he was still breathing in every word Jackson has spoken. 

"You're fucking us up," Mark said before lowering his head on Jackson's shoulder, "and I'm allowing it." 

If Jackson would call an emergency, what would be their reaction if he would say he’s missing his heart? 

_Funny._

" _Yeah_ ," he said, holding onto Mark tightly, "what idiots we are." 

Counting years, Jackson still had five more years to figure out what to do with Mark in his life. Not that he didn’t already know, but to find a safe place in the world full of prejudices, where hate was more potent than love, required power, and power came with a name, and Jackson was already working on it.

But then, wouldn’t it be easier to disappear from anyone’s life simply?

“But I’m bigger,” Jackson whispered when he kissed Mark again, “let me be better at something.”

Mark chuckled but didn’t say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, it's not my fault. ♥ it's this song's fault: Winona Oak & Robin Schulz - Oxygen

**Author's Note:**

> leave your thoughts and ♥♥ you can also leave your own ♥. i like beating hearts ♥  
> the second part is coming soon. (it's already finished).


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